


etched and bruised

by acastle



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, this is mostly sex I’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: “Regardless of whether or not you may be my potential soulmate,” he starts, sliding his hand up Chanyeol's thigh and staying there, his touch making Chanyeol shiver, “I think you’re very attractive. You’re adorable, too.”“Not really the word of hope for right now,” he mumbles, and Xiumin laughs lightly, his eyes alight.“You’re adorable, and I would love to get on my knees for you,” he says, and Chanyeol chokes on a breath. “Will that suffice?”(Chanyeol thinks he’s met his soulmate in a bar. He hopes.)





	etched and bruised

**Author's Note:**

> this has been done a million times maybe and is mostly just sex that may or may not be unrealistic I’m sorry

Chanyeol never learns his lesson.

Whenever either Sehun or Baekhyun utter the words, _“Drinks are on me tonight,”_ it actually means either Junmyeon or Yixing were paying for the night, and Chanyeol would serve as fifth wheel, again.

Tonight is no different. He sighs as he nurses his beer, resolutely trying to ignore Sehun on Junmyeon’s lap next to him, attacking his face and neck, kissing the life out of each other. Their soulmate marks are visible, Junmyeon’s name peeking out from under the open flap of Sehun’s shirt on his chest, and Sehun’s own scrawl looking uncharacteristically dainty on Junmyeon’s forearm, just seen from beneath the rolled sleeve of his work shirt.

Sehun had been the first out of the group to get his mark. Barely a month into their freshman year in university, he’d more or less screamed in the middle of class when he felt his skin burn, a name permanently branding itself on him. They’d all been a little less than shocked to see that it was Junmyeon’s name on him, having seen the way Sehun and Junmyeon had grown up together in the same street, having stayed close even when Junmyeon had left to live in the city. Even their own mothers weren’t surprised

Junmyeon had refused to date him until he graduated, though. It was the smart thing to do, but it didn’t stop Sehun from making the trip to where he worked at the architectural firm at least twice a month, just to see him.

Sehun had graduated a few years ago. It’s been several months since he’d finally moved into Junmyeon’s fancy place uptown. Chanyeol thinks it’s just a matter of time before they get married.

In an attempt to ignore the grinding occurring next to him, Chanyeol looks out to the floor where Yixing is dancing, Baekhyun moving along with him well, and their eyes fixed on each other, smirks on their mouths and the chemistry between them palpable.

Baekhyun had gotten his mark just this year, and he’d been frantic to see characters he didn’t recognize marked over his ribs in a language he couldn’t read. He’d met Yixing almost immediately after, when he’d gone in for a job interview at the arts school, where Yixing was the head of the dance department, with Baekhyun’s name a permanent scar on his shoulder. They’d been attached since then, and Chanyeol makes a face as their lips meet, and progressively gets dirtier.

He sighs, polishing off his beer and standing up to get another at the bar, if to just get away from Sehun and Junmyeon.

He doesn’t have his mark yet.

It’s fine, he’s still young, and he’s not pressed to find his soulmate just yet. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d _like_ to meet them. To get to know them, the way Baekhyun and Yixing are getting to know each other, to get to hold them and maybe fall in love, like Sehun and Junmyeon obviously have.

And, possibly, to finally have an end to being the odd man out in their group of couples.

He gets a soju instead of his planned beer, and stays at the bar when he sees Sehun and Junmyeon have gone horizontal in the booth in his absence, and turns his attention to the stage, where someone’s walked up on to introduce the musical act of the night.

He straightens up when he sees him. He’s not very tall, but his presence is greater than his stature, sure and easy movements and he’s graceful, towering and overwhelming. His eyes survey the room briefly, smiling at the little crowd that cheers before him, and it’s evident he’s popular here, and Chanyeol would understand why.

His eyes, slanted with a feline edge that makes it difficult to look away, pause on Chanyeol for a moment longer, and Chanyeol swallows as a slight smirk graces this man’s lips, looking back to the audience with a quiet confidence.

“Good evening,” he says, taking the microphone from the stand, and walking down the stage to the floor. “I’m Xiumin. Let’s all have a little fun tonight.”

And he sings. And Chanyeol is _floored._

He’s obviously well trained, and his voice is light, but powerful, reaching highs Chanyeol hasn’t even dreamed about, and every bit enchanting and mesmerizing. And he _moves,_ with so much grace but his body is languid, his motions soft but sharp and nothing is wasted on him. He even dances with Yixing, easily the best dancer Chanyeol knows, and he doesn’t fall behind, easily moving in step with him.

Chanyeol can’t stop staring, can’t stop watching, and he’s the first on his feet when Xiumin finishes his set, clapping with the rest of the crowd as they cheer loudly for him.

He heads to the bar, and Chanyeol isn’t shy usually, he’s normally very confident and knows how to use his charms. But he can’t help but feel _young._ Not quite inferior, but intimidated and even inexperienced though he’s far from it, but he approaches him all the same, his allure too strong. Even the way he knocks back the many shots the patrons get him is attractive, his neck shining with sweat and the choker wrapped around his throat making Chanyeol bite his lips.

“Hi,” he says, and he wants to slap himself already.

“Hello,” Xiumin replies, and he fixes his gaze on him, and Chanyeol could drown in it.

“You. You have a. I mean, you perform very well,” and he wants to melt into the earth and not come up for air.

“Thank you,” he says, giving him a small smile. “I’m Xiumin.”

“Chanyeol,” he says in turn, and Xiumin pauses as he answers, but not for very long. He respectfully holds out his hand for him to shake, and his grip is firm, his skin soft.

“What do you do, Chanyeol?” he asks, settling into his seat, and he gestures for him to do the same.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, steeling himself because the charisma coats every move Xiumin makes, every word he utters dripping with charm and personality and he’s already weak for it.

“Music,” he says, doing his best to not blush so much. “I’m taking my Masters in the university, but I work too. Producing, freelance.”

“And you’re doing well, I trust?” he asks, and Chanyeol has never felt such a fierce, immediate attraction to someone. Wants to sit on his lap and give him everything he wants.

“I suppose,” he says, and he steels himself, sets his hand on Xiumin’s thigh, waits for him to push him away. He doesn’t. “And you sing, full-time?”

“Oh, no,” Xiumin smiles, “This is a side thing. I’m a vocal trainer. I’m about to get my PhD, just have my dissertation left.”

“Oh, wow,” Chanyeol breathes, and he doesn’t think before he speaks. “Can I kiss you?”

He actually smacks his head on the bar top as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he wants to run away, but Xiumin says casually, “Will that be alright? Your friends might look for you? Your, your soulmate, maybe?”

Chanyeol groans, remembering. “I. I actually don’t have my mark, yet.”

Xiumin looks at him, slightly surprised. “You don’t?”

“And I suppose you do?” he says, and Xiumin gives a noncommittal shrug.

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

“So you’re willing to kiss me, despite having someone branded on you already?” Chanyeol asks him, and Xiumin raises an eyebrow.

“And you’re willing to kiss someone who has someone branded on them already?” he asks in turn, but the small smile on his face isn’t mean. “And you’ll get a name eventually, as well. Just because you don’t have it yet doesn’t mean what you’re doing is any different from me.”

Chanyeol blinks, and he feels a little stupid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound judgemental. I’m just overthinking things. You’re very attractive and it’s making it hard to think.” He pinches the inside of his thigh and groans internally, wondering where his already very thin filter had gone.

“Would it help if I showed you my mark?” Xiumin asks him instead, already unbuttoning his shirt.

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t quite want to say no, but Xiumin doesn’t go very far, merely pulling down his collar to expose his clavicle, and Chanyeol leans in to look despite his reluctance, and he chokes on a breath.

 _Chanyeol,_ in a scrawl he knows looks like his own and he doesn’t know what to say or think, looking up at Xiumin, who gives him another smirk.

“Do you think that’s me?” he asks him, and Xiumin gives him another casual shrug.

“Regardless of whether or not you may be my potential soulmate,” he starts, sliding his hand up Chanyeol's thigh and staying there, his touch making Chanyeol shiver, “I think you’re very attractive. You’re adorable, too.”

“Not really the word of hope for right now,” he mumbles, and Xiumin laughs lightly, his eyes alight.

“You’re adorable, and I would love to get on my knees for you,” he says, and Chanyeol chokes on a breath. “Will that suffice?”

“You don’t waste time,” he says, and Xiumin’s eyes glint.

“Any second we’re not touching is a second wasted,” he says, and he touches Chanyeol’s chin, tipping his head down so their eyes meet. “Soulmate or not, you are easily the most immediately endearing person I have met in a very long time. If you still haven’t changed your mind, I would love to kiss you.”

Chanyeol feels his blood rush. He leans his head down, pressing their mouths together, and Xiumin is soft against his lips, sweet and a little bitter from the alcohol but he licks into his mouth, tongues tangling together and he feels his eyes flutter shut. Xiumin pulls his body close, spreading his legs for Chanyeol to settle between them more easily, and his hands are a little cold on his hips, lifting his shirt slightly to get at his skin. Chanyeol moans into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders, wanting more.

He melts into the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and tasting and teasing, licking across teeth and Xiumin’s chest is hard under his fingers, his shoulders broad and his arms making him tremble. He’s weak for it all already, and he doesn’t care if it’s just for the night. Hopes for more, because this man looks at him like he’s golden and makes him lose his words and it’s not often that that happens, but they’re distant thoughts. He knows what he wants _now,_ and what he wants is _more._

He tells him as much, tells him to bring him home. Xiumin raises an eyebrow.

“Your friends won’t miss you?”

“They could care less about me. And I could care less about them,” he says, standing fully so he’s in between his legs properly, standing so close he might as well be in his lap. “Take me home. You know what I want.”

Xiumin’s eyes go dark, and he palms Chanyeol’s ass. He bites his lips, trying not to moan aloud, but pressing back against Xiumin’s touch all the same.

“You don’t waste time, either,” he says, and he thumbs at Chanyeol’s lips, just shy of reaching into his mouth. Chanyeol’s breath shudders in his chest.

“And you were right. We’re wasting time not getting out of here.”

“Get your things,” Xiumin says, standing and squeezing his ass one more time, small smirk on his mouth. “I’ll meet you outside.”

He kisses him again, gentle and teasing, and he leaves.

Chanyeol blinks, wondering to himself how that had been so _easy,_ effortless and maybe even a little _fun._ He’s not quite sure how tonight will end, but if for a few hours, this man will be his and he will be this man’s, and it will be worth it.

“Get in, Yeol,” Sehun says when he gets back to their booth to get his jacket, and he’s sprawled out on top of Junmyeon, both their lips swollen and limbs loose.

“Stay safe,” Junmyeon tells him, “use protection.”

“You too,” he says, waving impatiently and stalking off, and Xiumin waits by his car outside, looking unfairly perfect and Chanyeol wants to ravish him, vibrates with the opportunity waiting for him.

He kisses him as soon as he gets to him, biting at lips and reeling him in, wrapping himself around him until they’re a tangle and Xiumin smiles against his mouth, knowing.

The drive is short, and Chanyeol is thankful, can’t quite sit still and his thigh bouncing as Xiumin slides his hand up and down his leg as he drives, eyes focused on the road and Chanyeol feels a little brave. Takes his hand and slides it all the way up, over his crotch and where he’s already stiffening in his jeans, and Xiumin’s face is controlled, but the way he bites his lips and the way his hand spasms against Chanyeol’s dick betray him.

“You don’t play,” he says, and Chanyeol shouldn’t feel as proud as he does, for adding the grit to that voice and making it low, but he does, and he wants to make it _more._ Can’t quite remember a time he’d felt so _powerful_ yet so _helpless_ in someone’s mercy, all at the same time. It’s a heady, overwhelming feeling and he can’t quite get enough.

“This is nothing,” he says, but he can’t keep the desperate edge out of his voice. He knows Xiumin hears it as well, but all he does in turn is glide his hand up again, nails scratching against the material of his jeans, entirely teasing and comforting altogether.

“‘Nothing,’ hmm?” he hums, and Chanyeol fights to not moan out loud. He fails. “I’m intrigued for what ‘something’ might be, then.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he says, and he gets his own hands on Xiumin’s _insane_ thigh, feels the muscle twitch underneath his palm, thick and he knows it must be strong.

It’s a red light, and Xiumin reels him in, kissing him hard and shoving his tongue into his mouth, and Chanyeol sinks into his seat, wants to be taken. It’s short, Xiumin pulling away unfairly easy when the light goes green, and Chanyeol is panting in his chair, too affected by this man’s every touch.

The rest of the drive is quick, and Xiumin is pulling into a nice apartment building, but Chanyeol can’t quite appreciate it when he wants nothing more than to get on with it and get into Xiumin’s pants. He clings on to him in the elevator going up to his unit, and more or less attacks Xiumin once the door to his place is open and locked, attaching their lips together and pinning him to the wall.

“I don’t want to boost your ego too much,” Xiumin says, gasping as Chanyeol rolls their hips together, grinding, “But. You are the prettiest, most enchanting person I’ve ever met. I’ve never wanted to _ruin_ someone and build them back up so much in my life.”

Chanyeol _melts_ at the praise, and gets a hand down into his pants, and Xiumin’s cock is already more ham halfway to fully hard and it is delicious, making his chest ache with how much he wants it, everything entailed with it.

“I want to suck you off,” he says, doesn’t know where all the words are coming from, but he’s getting down to his knees already, looking up at Xiumin and fluttering his eyelashes, licking his lips. “Please, let me do it.”

“I thought _I_ was the one getting on my knees for you,” he says, but his voice is just on the edge of strangled and desperate, and Chanyeol is determined to get him there, all the way.

“You will, in other ways,” he says, voice sure as he pulls down Xiumin’s pants, just enough to free his cock, and Chanyeol’s mouth actually waters when he sees it, thick and really pretty as far as dicks go. He says as much, and Xiumin gives him an amused smile.

“I think you’re just desperate.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he says, and licks at the tip before Xiumin can retort. He’s too pleased when he hears the choked noise above him, and he gets his lips around his length, taking him into his mouth, deeper, until he gets all of him in. Xiumin moans, and Chanyeol _soars._

He bobs his head as he gets a rhythm going, taking Xiumin into his mouth again and again until his jaw aches, a nasty satisfying sensation that spurs him on all the more. He hears a thump above him, looks and sees Xiumin with his head tipped back against the wall, throat bared and his controlled expression all but gone, streams of soft but desperate grunts pouring out of his mouth.

He pulls back, feeling proud of himself, and running his tongue all over Xiumin’s dick, hard and slick from his mouth. He traces over the veins, slapping it against his tongue and it’s filthy and he wants to put on a show.

 _“Fuck,”_ Xiumin breathes, getting his hands on Chanyeol’s jaw, and pulling him back to his cock, and Chanyeol squirms, his own cock getting harder in his jeans and in need of relief. He relaxes his throat, gets his hands on Xiumin’s hips and goes deeper, hoping he gets the hint.

He does, and he starts fucking Chanyeol’s mouth fervently, in and out then in again, unrelenting and tears spring into Chanyeol's eyes, wants more.

“Come, come in my mouth,” he says quickly as he pops off his dick for a moment, pumping his cock with his hands. “Please.”

“I want to fuck you, though,” Xiumin actually looks a little torn, and Chanyeol growls, wanting it too, wanting to feel him split him open, but they have time. He’ll make time, and he wants Xiumin to come in his mouth _now,_ so he’s sucking on the tip hard and making him moan, his knees buckling a little. Chanyeol is stupidly smug.

“I’ll get you hard again,” he says, and this confidence is making his head spin, but Xiumin’s eyes go dark, and he’s feeding Chanyeol his cock again, until all of him is in his mouth.

“Look so pretty,” he says, voice like silk, and Chanyeol moans around the cock in his mouth, and he hopes Xiumin gives him everything.

He does, his pace rough and fast as he fucks his mouth and Chanyeol does his best to keep up, to keep sucking and bobbing and make it good, but he’s overwhelmed and he’s trembling, wanting it to last forever.

He swallows, and Xiumin lets out a short, loud yell, and he’s shooting into his mouth. Chanyeol takes as much as he can, but it dribbles out of his mouth, running down his chin and he feels nasty, glorious.

“Fuck, _Chanyeol,”_ Xiumin breathes, pulling him back up to his feet and kissing him, licking what he couldn’t swallow and sharing his come between them, and Chanyeol is moaning, whining into his mouth, so turned on out of his mind, as if he’d been the one who’d just come.

“Please, please,” he doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but Xiumin nods, ridding him of his shirt and touching his skin, everywhere. Chanyeol feels like fire, burning under his fingertips, and he’s unbuttoning Xiumin’s shirt, and he’s perfect, his body compact and hard and broad, and he’s never been so desperate for someone before.

They strip each other of their clothing, pulling at pants and underwear and not wasting time, getting their hands all over each other and Xiumin’s feel wonderful on him, his touch thorough and heating him up from the inside with every inch explored. Xiumin’s skin is soft under his fingers, stretched over tight muscle that yields under his touch, and he trembles, moans as their bodies are pulled flush, cocks sliding together and he’s tempted to get on his knees again, worship him.

Xiumin seems to want to do the same for him, give him everything, and Chanyeol feels so taken care of, lets himself be maneuvered on the bed, hovering over Xiumin with his legs on either side of his chest, Xiumin’s hands on his hips, his grip strong, unfaltering.

He doesn’t have to wonder long, as to what Xiumin wants him to do. “Sit on my face,” he says, so casually, his voice low and smooth and Chanyeol chokes on his breath.

“I – _fuck,_ Xiumin,” he stutters, and his dick spurts a little at the thought. “Are you sure?”

“Have you seen you?” he answers him, his eyes dark and set on him. Chanyeol feels exposed under his gaze. His hands find their way to his ass, squeezing, and Chanyeol jolts, moaning loudly. “I will get you in every position, every way I’m allowed tonight. I want nothing more at this moment than to eat you out. Please, let me-“

“Fuck, _fuck,”_ he’s whining, just short of sobbing, so aroused he’s losing his mind a little, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He lowers himself onto his face, and Xiumin kitten licks his hole, testing, and Chanyeol is trembling above him, so, so desperate.

He kisses his entrance, mouthing around it and it’s as if he’s making out with it, and Chanyeol feels filthy, nasty and it’s perfect. Then, he’s circling his tongue around, pushing in a little, and then in.

Chanyeol throws his head back, body arching, desperately trying to not shove his ass down on Xiumin’s tongue. He’s sweating, nipples peaking with how much he wants to come, trying to get a hold on himself and he gets his hands on Xiumin’s hair, pulling and trying to get his tongue inside him, deeper.

The noises Xiumin makes as he eats him out is indecent, obscene, and he desperately wants to sob, his cock leaking with it. Xiumin must feel his desperation, pulls away slightly, breathing deeply, his spit running down his chin and he looks like sin.

“Ride, ride my face,” he says, and he licks his lips, and Chanyeol is gone. Looks down, sees the mark on his clavicle, and for now, he pretends, believes that it’s him, that that mark is for him.

He rolls his hips, pushing back on Xiumin’s offered tongue, getting him deeper, and Xiumin gets the hint, starts really fucking him with his tongue, getting him sloppy and wet, and Chanyeol. He doesn’t do this often, doesn’t let many people see him this way, touch him in this specific way, and Xiumin blows them all out of the water so easily, making him fall apart on his tongue.

He jolts at the finger pushing in with Xiumin’s tongue, and he bears down on it as well as he can, but Xiumin makes it easy, makes it so effortless, licking him and getting him wet. He loses himself in it, loses himself to being fingered open, one after the other and he’s fucking himself down on three fingers and a tongue before he knows it, rolling his hips mindlessly, trying to get more.

“Fuck, _fuck, Xiumin,”_ he whines, full on sobs when he’s guided off of his face, and he’s sitting on his chest, Xiumin’s hand jacking him off with a frighteningly quick pace, and all it takes is his mouth, gorgeous and pink, sucking on the head, and he comes with a yell, Xiumin sucking him down, taking all of him in.

He’s boneless, sated and it doesn’t take much for Xiumin to guide him to spangle on top of him, and they’re kissing, tongues lazy and licking at each other, tasting of each other. Chanyeol shivers, rolling his hips down and knowing the night can’t be over. Still wants that cock inside him.

“Fuck me,” he says, grinding down with a little more force, and Xiumin groans, palming his ass, rolling he cheeks in his hands. Chanyeol’s eyes flutter close, and he wants to get closer, knows only one way how.

“You _just_ came, give yourself some time,” he's saying, and Chanyeol appreciates the concern. He truly does, his chest warming at the thought, but his body is fast to catch up with what he wants tonight, and they have time, but he doesn’t want to waste any of it.

He rolls off of him, taking himself into his hand and tugging himself, tries to get himself hard again, and it’s sensitive, everything on the edge of becoming painful, but more than that, the sight of Xiumin, gorgeous and glowing with sweat next to him, chest heaving and eyes ablaze, naked and almost fully hard again and eyeing him with what he knows is as much want as in his own expression, makes him ready, makes him want _more._

He arranges himself, on his hands and knees and looking over at Xiumin with dark eyes, saying, “You said you’d get on your knees for me. Then do it.”

 _“Shit,”_ Xiumin breathes, and he’s sitting up, reaching over the nightstand and reaching into the drawer, bringing out lube and a condom. “You’re _exquisite,_ you brat.”

He really, really shouldn’t have liked being called a ‘brat’ as much as he did, but he moans softly, his dick twitching a little in his grip.

Xiumin comes to kneel behind him, and Chanyeol can feel the eyes raking over his body, across his back, over his ass. He bites his lips at the grip Xiumin has on his asscheeks, rolling the flesh around a bit, and the first lubed finger in his hole enters easily, having been stretched on spit and tongue. It feels good, gets even better with the second finger, the third, and the stretch of it all makes him rock on his knees. He pulls at his cock, getting himself hard, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to get there, with the way Xiumin fucks him with his fingers, words of praise muttered between them.

“Are you alright?” Xiumin asks him, voice rough and his lips soft against his ear, and Chanyeol swallows, nodding. Looks back, watches as Xiumin gets the condom on his cock, rolling the rubber down and wetting it with lube, pulling off and Chanyeol wants it inside him so much he’s shaking.

Xiumin rubs the head teasingly over his entrance, and Chanyeol moans, just short of begging as the head pushes in, only to pull back out, the motion repeated over, and over, until he’s lost his mind.

“Xiumin, _Xiumin, please, fuck me,”_ he whines, balling the sheets in his hands in his desperation. Xiumin has mercy, and pushes into him with one long, slow thrust.

He’s thick, and gorgeous, and perfect. Chanyeol moans, his chest shaking with it.

Xiumin sets the pace immediately, done with teasing it seems, and Chanyeol is thankful for it. He pulls out to fuck back in, hard, and he’s pounding into Chanyeol’s willing body, stretching him open with his perfect cock.

 _“Xiumin, fuck,”_ he’s sobbing, fucked open with an amazing pace, and Xiumin gives it to him. Fucks in, in, in, their skin slapping together and the sound filthy in the room, and it spurs him on. Splits Chanyeol open with perfect thrusts, no motion wasted, and he fucks with his whole body, and Chanyeol vaguely remembers him dancing earlier tonight. How each movement had been sure, easy, smooth but strong all the same, and he has a strong notion that Xiumin approaches everything in his life the same way, if the way he’s fucking him so well is any indication.

“I, _fuck,_ I don’t mean to sound crude, but you are so _tight,”_ Xiumin moans as he pushes in, making him feel it. “Your ass, you are _perfect.”_

 _“Xiumin,_ fuck,” he can’t seem to say much else, every word he’s ever known flying off his head, and he’s falling apart, can’t focus on anything other than the cock splitting him open, the man fucking him so well, and the words and noises he makes as he makes Chanyeol feel incredible.

He feels himself open up for Xiumin, his body taking him in and little, continuous _“uh-uh-uhs”_ streaming out of his mouth as he’s speared. He drops his head, and it feels so good, and then it feels _incredible._

He shouts, neck craning back and Xiumin takes advantage immediately, sucking on the side of his throat as he pushes in at the same angle, his hands spreading Chanyeol’s asscheeks apart for his cock. He’s so weak for it all, wants to give himself over, everything he has, wants Xiumin to feel good, and it seems the thing that pleases Xiumin most is making _him_ feel good, and every other thought leaves him in an exhale when Xiumin fucks forward hard into the spot, grinding in and making him see stars.

He’s so close, feels it cresting in his stomach, and Chanyeol whimpers, dropping his head when Xiumin begins pulling him back onto his cock, his hands gripping his hips tightly.

“Do you think,” Xiumin says, thumbing where his cock is stretching Chanyeol open, making him moan, the sound coming from deep within his chest, “that you can come? Untouched?”

Chanyeol whines, “That sounds like torture.”

“I think you can,” Xiumin murmurs, biting at the shell of his ear, and Chanyeol trembles, his elbows weak. “Can we try?”

He shivers, his cock leaking under him, his ass clenching around Xiumin, and he’s just short of crying with how good he feels, with how much he needs to release it.

But. Xiumin’s hands, generous with their touch, smoothing over goosebumps on his back, his sides, makes him want to try. Makes him want to give everything he can, do with a shaky breath, he says, “Yes.”

Xiumin turns his head to the side to kiss him hard, licking into his mouth and thanking him with a bite on his lips. Chanyeol moans into it, offering everything he has, whimpering when Xiumin pulls back.

His next thrust in fucks the breath right out of his chest, making him gasp, his knees sliding about as his whole body is jolted forward. His cock jumps, painfully hard.

This pace continues, rough and pounding, and when he rubs against that spot again, Chanyeol can’t quite keep himself up anymore. His elbows fail him, and he drops down against Xiumin’s bed, face smashed against the sheets and his ass held up in the air by Xiumin’s grasp. Xiumin fucks down, the power behind his thrusts making Chanyeol drool into the sheets, helplessly turned on out of his mind.

“Fuck, _fuck, your ass,”_ Xiumin groans, fucking in and grinding in, and Chanyeol feels him twitch inside him. He whimpers.

“Make, make me come,” he whines, squeezing his ass around him, “Please, Xiumin-“

 _“Fuck,”_ he moans, and he fucks him without abandon, thrusts forward with decreasing control, harder and faster and Chanyeol knows he’s close. They both are, and he tries, _tries,_ to move, push back and participate a little more, but he can’t, like it’s the most he can do to keep his ass up and _take it._

Xiumin doesn’t see this as a hardship, if the way he moans and fucks him faster is any indication. He rolls his hips, sinful and perfect, and Chanyeol feels him lower his body, his chest molding to his back, rocking them together, and it’s amazing, toe-curling, and then, he bites down on his shoulder, hard.

His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he comes unexpectedly, untouched, spilling white over the sheets, so much of it, and he moans, long and loud and strangled towards the end. His body can’t keep itself up anymore, and he drops down to the bed, shaking in aftershocks and humping down on the bed, riding out his high, Xiumin’s cock still inside him, hard and perfect still.

“Come in me,” he gasps, and Xiumin growls. Fucks in, fucks him into the bed with pounding thrusts, harder. Chanyeol slides up the bed, and it’s sensitive everywhere, but so good still. He spreads his legs more, gives him more room to move, and he squeezes his ass on Xiumin’s next thrust in, moaning louder than he’s ever moaned in his life.

Xiumin echoes him, comes into the condom, thrusting forward in uncontrolled motions, his hips slapping against Chanyeol’s ass hard, the sound disgustingly loud in the room.

They both come down, the silence buzzing around their ears, and Chanyeol thinks his brain might have melted. He doesn’t even really feel Xiumin pulling out of him, barely registers being rolled into his back to the clean side of the bed, but he blinks when Xiumin comes back into view.

He’s sweating profusely, his hair flat with it, and his eyes glisten, bright as they stare down at him with the curiously most adoring look Chanyeol has ever had directed at him. He’s gorgeous, freshly fucked and Chanyeol made him like that. He grins stupidly to himself at the thought.

“Fuck, you’re cute,” Xiumin mutters, brushing back Chanyeol’s hair away from his face, and leaning down to kiss him, and his touch is especially soft.

Chanyeol makes a noise of dissent, pouting against Xiumin’s lips. “All that, and all I get is _cute?”_

“If I told you how I really felt, what I really thought about you,” Xiumin says, murmuring against his mouth, his gaze not breaking and deep, enough to make Chanyeol whimper internally, “we would never leave this bed, and I would _ruin_ you.”

“That sounds agreeable,” he says, dazed, and Xiumin smirks at him, humoring him with another kiss, quick, his lips trailing all over his face. Then down his neck, all over his chest, and licking over his stomach, cleaning him up with his tongue and lips and Chanyeol shivers, tries not to tremble so much under his mouth, all the attention given to him. He licks over his now soft length, making him wince in sensitivity a little, but it doesn’t progress more than that, simply cleaning him up and licking away his come.

He hums, eyes blinking blearily, and he doesn’t know if he’s welcome, and he’s so tired, doesn’t want to move and stay with him for as long as he can. 

Xiumin takes away the thinking for him, though. “Stay the night? I can drive you to where you need to be right now, but you look like you’d be dead on your feet.”

“Hmmm,” he hums again, trying to reach out for him and hold him close, and his brain is barely keeping up with the words said to him. It’s not happened yet, that a hook-up would offer to drive him personally back home if he needed it. The most they’d do was call a car for him, which was nice, but impersonal all the same.

Then again, Xiumin has proven many times tonight that he’s not like any other hook-up. He hopes that isn’t all he’ll be.

There’s a damp towel wiping at his skin, and he blinks at the careful, gentle cleaning Xiumin gives him, despite him already having taken care of the mess on his body. His chest gets warm all over.

“You think you’re up for being early tomorrow? I have work in the morning,” he says, and Chanyeol nods mindlessly, yawning into Xiumin’s neck, and wrapping his limbs all over him.

He hears him chuckle, amused and hopefully endeared, and the covers are pulled over their bodies. He barely feels the kiss pressed onto his forehead before he’s asleep, sated and tired.

.

Chanyeol wakes early the next day, blinking and groaning at the earliness of the hour, the sky still asleep outside Xiumin’s windows.

He’s still in Xiumin’s arms, tucked against his chest and feeling smaller than what his tall stature usually allows, and it’s surprisingly comforting, to be so close to this man physically. He’s pretty when he sleeps, mouth slightly open, his hair a little all over the place but still perfect, his lids smooth, and Chanyeol wants to lick him, worship him.

He looks around him, taking in Xiumin’s bedroom properly. It’s not quite small, not quite large, clean and everything organized, even their discarded clothes folded and set aside on the chair next to a desk. He must have been so fucked out last night, doesn’t remember Xiumin leaving him for that long, long enough to fix their clothes.

The layout and furniture are simple, but well chosen, complementing each other well and making everything look warm, like home. It somehow seems very much like him, and Chanyeol sighs against his body, feeling content for a moment.

Then, he looks at Xiumin’s body, stares in the way he’d neglected to the night before, having been too preoccupied with wanting to be fucked.

His body is tight, and while he’s not tall, there is _so much of him,_ the breadth of his shoulders and chest, the thickness of his biceps, the muscles in his thighs. There are so many ridges in his stomach, the muscles compact and hard underneath his fingertips, and then his dick.

Even in his state of sleep, half-hard, he’s thick, fat and making Chanyeol swallow and lick his lips. He’s had that _inside_ him, split him open and he’s come just from that cock being in his ass, and his own cock twitches, his entrance suddenly feeling too empty.

He glances at the soulmate mark on his clavicle, and Chanyeol desperately wants it to be his, and he’s written his name many thousands of times, knows his scrawl when he sees it, but his want makes him a little blind. Desperately wants Xiumin’s name to appear on his body, confirm what he feels, confirm that gut instinct he’d had last night, watching him perform, speaking with him, touching him.

He swallows, and he doesn’t want this to end.

So. He reaches over for the lube left on the nightstand, coats his fingers with it. He sits up, getting up on his knees, and reaches behind himself, pushing in one finger in his still slightly stretched out hole, and he bites his lips as his other hand gets at his cock, getting him fully hard.

He makes quick work of fingering himself, stretches himself just enough so that he knows he’ll still be tight when he goes down on him, and lowers his mouth down to Xiumin’s length, and licks him, root to tip.

Xiumin stirs a little, making soft noises in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake, sighing and turning his body a little more pa he’s flat on his back. Chanyeol smirks to himself, now that he has Xiumin in the exact position he wants him in, and he lowers his head again. Opens his mouth, and guides Xiumin’s dick in, almost fully hard.

There’s a noise above him again, but he sleeps on, and Chanyeol chooses to waste no more time. He takes a deep breath, widens his mouth further, and takes him in.

It’s not like last night, wherein the pace had been desperate, fast, needing for him to fuck his mouth and make him come. Now, his pace is leisurely, enjoying the feeling of keeping his cock warm and getting him hard, getting him wet. He licks all over, tracing veins and each ridge, tonguing over the tip and where he's leaking, and he sleeps on, but his body starts moving.

Xiumin moans above him, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and his hips start pumping shallowly, unconsciously. Chanyeol is ready for it, relaxing his throat and taking him as deep as he can go, and he reaches behind himself again, inserting his slick fingers back in.

He shivers, overwhelmed on all fronts, and he keeps himself stretched as he goes down on Xiumin, keeps on going. Runs his tongue all over his shaft, sucking him down and he’s hot, heavy on his tongue, wonderful and everywhere, and he closes his eyes, listening to the soft, sleepy noises Xiumin makes, feeling up the cock in his mouth, his fingers in his ass.

Eventually, he can’t wait anymore, and he pops off his dick, now hard and slapping against Xiumin’s belly, slick with his spit. He pants, throwing his head back as he fucks himself with his fingers, desperately trying to not lose control, not to come. He forces himself pull away his hand, rolls down a new condom from the table on Xiumin’s cock carefully.

He pours lube all over him, maybe a little too much, but he doesn’t care, sliding his hand up and down his cock to get him slippery for him, and then he’s swinging a leg over him, straddling his lap, his cock sliding up against his ass, catching between his cheeks for a moment.

Chanyeol’s eyes roll back into his head, and he sets his hand on Xiumin’s stomach, steeling himself. He guides him in, and sinks down slowly, keeps going until all of Xiumin’s cock is nestled inside him, and the stretch is still so good, makes Chanyeol’s chest shake and shudder.

He does his utmost to not touch his own length, furiously hard, and sets about a slow pace, rocking back and forth on Xiumin’s dick. Not quite up and down, but just enough movement to make the cock twitch inside him, for Xiumin to moan again and Chanyeol watches him wake up, blinking at the warmth around his length, the weight above him.

He watches as the realization comes upon Xiumin, and the moan he releases when his brain finally catches up with him is _shattering._

“Good morning,” Chanyeol murmurs, clenching his ass around him, and Xiumin grunts, his hands gliding up Chanyeol’s thighs, until they settle at his waist, gripping tight, tracing bruises from last night.

“You really, _really,_ don’t fucking play,” he says, his voice rough with sleep, and his eyes are dead set on Chanyeol, looking up from where he lays on the pillows and making Chanyeol feel like a king.

“You said you had work,” Chanyeol says, and he starts moving more, leaning forward and rolling his hips, still slow, but his breath starts getting short. “And you needed to get up early. So, I’m _getting it up_ early.”

“That’s _terrible,”_ Xiumin says, but Chanyeol’s not having it, so he pulls up, until just the head of his cock is keep his hole stretched, and then he’s slamming back down, taking him all at once and Xiumin shouts, his hands gripping tightly at his hips and looking every bit as desperate as Chanyeol feels.

He stays seated on Xiumin for another moment, feeling him up, keeping his cock warm, and Xiumin’s patience seems to wear thin.

“Do you want me to do the work?” he grits out, and his eyes are slanted dangerously, dark and his lips inviting. Chanyeol smirks, leaning down and giving him a filthy, wet kiss, full of tongue and spit and teeth.

“Later,” he grins, feeling so pleased with himself, and he starts bouncing on Xiumin’s cock. Pounds himself, lifting his body up and down and slamming down and taking his dick in, again and again and again, until he’s seeing stars.

An endless stream of noise comes out of his mouth, and he tilts his body forward, getting at a different angle, and he throws his head back, moaning and panting at the way his nub is rubbed, his toes and fingers curling at the sensation.

“Oh, oh _fuck,”_ he says, and tears spring into his eyes at how good he feels, riding this man, taking his cock into his ass repeatedly, making them both feel good. “Xiumin. _Xiumin.”_

“Ride me,” he says, orders, and Chanyeol scrambles to obey, setting his hands on Xiumin’s chest and _riding,_ fucking himself hard, his ass slapping against Xiumin’s thighs with a resounding, nasty sound that’s too loud in the room. Xiumin’s eyes are dangerous, dark and entirely enough to make him choke on a breath, clench around his length and shake above him, utterly overwhelmed.

Chanyeol leans forward, hovering over him with his hands on either side of Xiumin’s head, panting as he rolls his hips. Xiumin gets his hands on his ass, palms smacking at his cheeks and making Chanyeol jolt, tighten around him, and he moans loudly, almost a sob.

“You alright there, baby?” he says, his voice like silk and Chanyeol whimpers, the casual pet name thrown in making him weak. Xiumin squeezes at his ass, rolling the flesh around, and he lifts his hips and thrusts up.

Chanyeol throws his head back at the sensation, the groan vibrating through his throat, and he feels Xiumin licks at his skin of his neck, biting, soothing over with his tongue. Xiumin keeps his hips in place, his grip strong as it keeps his ass in the air, and he fucks in hard and quick, successive thrusts that knock the breath out of Chanyeol’s chest and the resulting sound is a cacophony of Chanyeol’s whimpers and moans, his short breaths, their skin slapping together, again and again.

“Oh god, oh _god, fuck,”_ he whines, flopping on top of Xiumin and his dick twitches, the heat swirling in the pit of his stomach already.

“Stay still,” Xiumin says, his voice husky and low and his ear, and Chanyeol can’t do anything but. He cries out when Xiumin starts pulling his body down onto his cock, spearing into him with a force he didn’t know could come out of that body, small and tight and graceful. Tears spring into his eyes as his own cock rubs between their bodies, the friction not quite enough to get him off, but plenty to tease, heighten everything.

Xiumin fucks him, his nails biting into Chanyeol’s ass and there are never ending praises murmured into his ear, and Chanyeol is fucked so well, so thoroughly, he wants to stay there forever, wants to be held in Xiumin’s arms and split open by his perfect cock and give everything he has and take it, all of it.

Then, he can’t take it anymore, everything so _much,_ everything making him boneless and on the edge of falling, and he needs to fall.

“Xiumin, Xiumin,” he whines, getting his hands on his shoulders, squeezing weakly.

It’s enough for him to slow down, pause, and Chanyeol feels his cock twitch inside him. He shuts his eyes, overwhelmed.

“What is it, baby?” he says, and his eyes are bright, and Chanyeol’s heart squeezes in his chest.

“Please. Please, I need to come,” he’s shocked at how desperate he sounds, how soft his voice his, how high it’s gotten with a whine. He fights not to be embarrassed, kisses him instead, licking into his mouth.

“Then I’ll make you come,” Xiumin answers against his mouth, a promise that sets Chanyeol on edge, but making him melt all the same.

Xiumin guides him to sit up on his lap again, and he sits up too, his eyes never leaving Chanyeol’s. His hands anchor him, gripping his hips, and Chanyeol’s breath leaves him in shudders, and he’s rolling his hips, moving in Xiumin’s cock in languid, hard movements.

Xiumin pumps his hips up, his speed and force gradually increasing, and Chanyeol throws his head back, body arching into Xiumin’s as he gets closer, closer to coming, and there’s a searing sensation on his hip that makes him shout, clenching and squeezing around the length inside him, making him shake violently.

“Xiumin, _Xiumin,”_ he’s panting, trembling, and Xiumin’s staring at where their bodies are joined, where his hands grip at Chanyeol’s body, where his cock is hard and leaning towards his stomach, furiously red and leaking at the tip.

Xiumin surges up, pushing inside him and grinding, pulling him down at the same time as he kisses Chanyeol hard, and he barely gets a hand on his length before Chanyeol is shooting between them, his scream loud and filthy in the room as he spills so much white, getting them dirty.

He turns limp, trembling as he slumps against Xiumin, and he encourages him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, his neck, clenching his ass for him to get the hint.

Xiumin takes it easily, and if it weren’t for his tight hold on his body, Chanyeol would have jolted off of him with the way he fucked him, hard and rough and Chanyeol entirety shakes with overstimulation and pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more, and Xiumin is bringing his body down, pulling out and Chanyeol blinks slowly as he watches Xiumin strip off the condom, fisting at his length in a blurringly quick pace, and he shoots all over Chanyeol’s stomach, adding to the mess on his body, and Chanyeol moans, feeling his hole twitch and clench around nothing.

Xiumin bends over and kisses him, immediately dirty and Chanyeol opens his mouth, letting him in, and they kiss for several minutes, coming down and getting their heart rate back to normal, their breathing at a normal pace.

“I’ll run us a bath,” Xiumin says eventually, running his fingers through their collective spill on Chanyeol’s belly. Chanyeol shivers, blushing but feeling no shame, and he nods at the suggestion, reaching out for him.

Xiumin takes him into his arms, helping him stand, and he leads them into his bathroom, clean and bright. He sits Chanyeol down on the sink, smiling into the kiss Chanyeol pulls him into, letting him cling for a moment before he extracts himself from his hold to fill the bathtub.

Chanyeol pouts when he goes away, and his limbs are loose and his mind free, and he watches him with a sleepy gaze, eyes grazing over every inch of his perfect body, marked with evidences of Chanyeol’s mouth, Chanyeol’s hands, and he’s never been so attracted, so compelled to someone in his life.

Xiumin gestures him over, and Chanyeol ambles, legs feeling like jelly as he gets off the counter and walks over to him. Xiumin holds out a case of bath bombs for him to choose from, and Chanyeol looks at him, eyebrow raised. He simply shrugs his shoulders, “Got them as a gift once, and I liked them. Got my own.”

Chanyeol melts, endeared, and he points to a galaxy, glittery bomb, and Xiumin smiles, dropping the proffered bomb into the tub, and he pulls Chanyeol close as they watch it fizz, swirling the water with pinks and greens and purples and blues, then black, the water bubbling and the smell is citrusy, comforting.

Xiumin guides them both in, and Chanyeol curls up against him, water sloshing about as Xiumin wipes at his face, cleaning him with the colored water, and Chanyeol just looks at him, his face now bare of the little makeup he’d had the night before, and he’s so, so pretty.

“You have a really nice face,” he says casually, and Xiumin gives him a small smile.

“You’re entirely lovely, yourself,” he says in reply, tilting Chanyeol’s face up and kissing him.

Everything is curiously domestic, comfortable as they clean each other, and Chanyeol traces his name on Xiumin’s collarbone, and he kisses it, hoping, praying for the best. Hoping that by some miracle, he gets this man’s name on him.

They stay in the run for too long, Xiumin indulging into every kiss he asks for, and Chanyeol watches him struggle to say no to another round in the tub, citing that they had no time and he had to go to work soon. He’d looked even more disappointed than how Chanyeol had felt, and Chanyeol had liked being the one smirking, for once.

They towel off, and his clothes are handed to him, and his whole body aches as he gets himself dressed, groaning, feeling like there are bruises and love bites everywhere.

“Where _didn’t_ you bite?” Chanyeol huffs, and Xiumin chuckles as he gets into his work outfit, slacks that can’t hope to hide his delicious thighs, a simple black button down, and he still looks exquisite, no matter what he wears.

“You’re gorgeous. Had you been you, you would have taken the opportunity to mark you too,” he replies, voice ever smooth, and Chanyeol hates how weak he is for it. “Besides. You’ve scratched me everywhere. We’re even.”

“Couldn’t even let up your grip,” he says, wincing as he tries to get the waistband pulled over his hips, but they’re sensitive, funnily feeling as if they’re burning. “My hips, _fuck,_ no one’s held me this tight before, what kind of grip do you have?”

At this, Xiumin pauses, and turns to look at Chanyeol, a little surprised, maybe apprehensive. “You haven’t seen it?”

“Seen what? What do you mean?” he blinks, and Xiumin is holding his hand, bringing him over to the mirror, and he gasps.

The bruises are already forming on his skin, shaped in Xiumin’s fingers, but more than that, on his right hip, etched on him, is his soulmate mark, a neat scrawl making itself home on his body.

The name there is not Xiumin’s.

He can’t help the way his heart drops as he touches it, the skin sensitive as tender, and he traces he name with a little regret, disappointment.

“Did, did you see when?” Chanyeol can’t look at Xiumin, not even at his reflection in the mirror, so he closes his eyes.

“When you were riding me,” Xiumin answer him honestly, and Chanyeol takes a deep, shuddering breath, a little heartbroken. Now, the way Xiumin had stared down at where he’d held Chanyeol, the burn he’d felt that he’d chalked up to the heat of the moment, it’s all washed in clarity, and Chanyeol chokes at the sadness he feels. He didn’t think he’d feel this sad, when he’d gotten it. He’d never assumed that he’d be jumping out of his chair in happiness, but he had never thought he’d feel this _crushed._

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Xiumin looks at him, surprised.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks, and Chanyeol sniffs.

“I’m. I’m not your Chanyeol, after all,” he says, and Xiumin pulls him close immediately, holding his face in his hands and kissing him fiercely, and Chanyeol feels like he shouldn’t, but he melts into him anyway.

“Don’t, don’t,” he says against his mouth, before placing another steaming kiss on his lips. “No, don’t apologize.”

“But-“

“Forget the mark, for a minute,” he says, “because mark or no, you are easily one of the most enchanting people I’ve ever met. Last night, this morning, are the best I’ve felt in such a long time. I’d like to believe that they are similar for you.”

“They are,” he says instantly, doesn’t want him to doubt how he’d made him feel.

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for,” Xiumin says, his eyes fierce with conviction. “I was drawn to you, regardless of your name. You did this with me despite not knowing if we were destined. I would do it again. Don’t discount this.”

“I won’t,” he says, and he holds on to him, feeling a little more dramatic than he should. He’s known Xiumin for less than a day, knows that this attachment isn’t very sensical, and he knows next to nothing about him, little else aside from the way he could make his brain melt out of his ears with the way he fucks him, with the way he makes his body feel, but. He can’t help but feel like his world is crumbling. “But. You can’t deny that this changes things.”

“It doesn’t,” Xiumin says. “It really doesn’t.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, pulls away, suddenly feeling horribly out of place in this man’s home.

He hears Xiumin sigh, but he doesn’t make Chanyeol speak again, keeps his distance respectfully, letting him stew.

He keeps a gentle hand on him as he walks them out his apartment, and back into his car, and his hand feels awfully familiar on Chanyeol’s thigh as he drives them out in the early morning. It’s more comforting than Chanyeol feels should be allowed, and the silence between them is no doubt awkward, but he gives in, allows their hands to tangle together.

He doesn’t speak much, other than to give directions back to his own place. Xiumin is just as quiet next to him, and Chanyeol feels bad all over. For making the air stifling, unintentional though it had been, for making this alluring man even the slightest bit less bright, and for his soulmate, whoever they might be. For resenting them already for not being Xiumin despite his hopes, for wanting them to be someone else. Chanyeol doesn’t feel especially very good.

Xiumin stops the car outside his building, and Chanyeol thinks over what he should do. If the kiss he wants to I’ve him is too much, or if he should just run out before Xiumin can say anything.

Xiumin sighs next to him, starting, “Chanyeol, I need to tell you something-“

Chanyeol panics.

He comes forward, kisses him, messy and quick and with no real finesse, but Xiumin kisses back all the same. Then he’s reeling back, not saying anything else before he runs out the door and into the building.

So, he supposes he’d done both; the kiss and the running out. Just to cover his bases.

“We’ve been trying to contact you all night, you idiot,” Sehun says as soon as he unlocks the door to their apartment. Junmyeon is at the counter, dressed for work and attempting to help make breakfast, but Sehun just stares him down, and he goes back to his cereal a little dejected. It’s not often they’re here in the morning, but Junmyeon’s place is a little farther away from the club and Chanyeol suspects they’d taken over his room for the night. He’ll inspect later if he has the energy.

Baekhyun ambles sleepily out of his bedroom, shirtless and in what Chanyeol knows is Yixing’s boxers, and Yixing is right behind him, similarly half-naked and wrapping his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, kissing his neck.

Chanyeol’s eyes glance over their soulmate marks, and he swallows, eyes stinging at his fate.

“I got my mark this morning,” he barely gets out, but everyone in the room stills, staring at him.

“Holy shit,” Baekhyun offers, and Chanyeol is in despair.

“I, I mean. How?” Sehun asks, and Chanyeol slumps into the chair by the dining table, his chest tight.

“I. We were, I was on top, I. We were doing _stuff,”_ Chanyeol refuses to blush, and he’s not some prude, but as he thinks more and more about it, he could not have a worse _‘where-were-you-when-you-got-your-soulmate-mark’_ story if he had tried. “And I didn’t even notice it. I only saw it when I was dressing up after. _He_ saw it when, when we were doing it, and he was still so nice to me after.”

The whole room pauses, digesting.

“You got your soulmate mark in the middle of a fuck?” Sehun says, trying to sound serious, but the way one side of his mouth tilts up is enough to let Chanyeol know he wants to laugh, desperately. He thanks Junmyeon quietly when he pinches Sehun’s side, silently berating him.

“Was it the guy from last night?” Junmyeon asks him, his voice quiet and careful. “Xiumin, right?”

“Woah, you got with him?” Baekhyun says, and Yixing gives him an impressed sort of smirk. “Way to go, Yeol. He’s our dream three way partner.”

“There is literally no reason for me to have to know that,” he says, and Yixing, kinky shit that he is and he doesn’t hide that he is, says, “You’ve got him all over you. He must have been _delicious.”_

“Okay, you have your mark. Why do you look so sad, then?” Junmyeon asks him. “I know you’ve never really been invested, but we know you enough to know that you cared at least a bit. Why are you so sad?”

Chanyeol tries to swallow down his heart, and try not to feel so foolish. “He has my name on his shoulder. And, I was so, so _sure_ that it was actually really me, that his mark was meant for me. But when I got my mark this morning-“

“It wasn’t him,” Yixing completes for him when he finds the words cant come out of his mouth.

Chanyeol nods, blinking away the sting in his eyes that he knows are too much for the situation, but he can’t help them.

“And I wanted it to be,” he admits finally, sighing. He feels very small. “I know he’s just a hook-up, but. He really, really didn’t feel like one. I guess my instinct was wrong.”

Both couples watch him quietly, thoughtfully, and he feels very tired, all of a sudden.

“You can make fun of me now,” he says, and they give a collective shake of their heads.

“You idiot,” Sehun says, sitting directly on his lap. Chanyeol balks, but he doesn’t budge. “We make fun of you for everything. But we’d never put you down for hoping.”

Chanyeol pouts, and Baekhyun and Yixing come forward, petting at his hair, while Junmyeon gets out his bowl for cereal. They do what they can, and they’re a lot kinder than what he feels he deserves. Chanyeol is thankful for all of them.

He, unfortunately, still has classes that morning, and he puts on a new set of clothes, not touching his bed because one look and he knew that Sehun and Junmyeon had rolled around in it. He sighs as he dresses up, still smelling Xiumin’s bath bomb on his skin, and feeling his lips all over his body, evidence of him everywhere on him, even in his heart, and he can’t help but hate the mark that denies him that, just a small, tiny bit.

It will be some time, but he’ll work to get over it. He needs to.

The trip to the university is painless, quicker and quick, and he takes his seat in the small room, everyone else already there. They’re a small class of eight, and he takes the seat left for him between Kyungsoo and Jongdae, smiling despite his less than stellar mood.

They don’t have to wait for long, when the door opens and their professor arrives. Except, when Chanyeol looks up, it’s most definitely _not_ Dr. Lee who comes to stand at the head of the table, and he _definitely_ knows those cat eyes, intimately, personally.

He swallows, trying not to jump in his seat too much, but Kyungsoo notices his forced stiffness, leaning in and asking quietly, “Are you alright?”

Chanyeol breathes deeply, blinking, biting his lips. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know him?” Jongdae asks, and Chanyeol wishes he could melt into the floor when those eyes pause on him, and he can’t read the expression in them, he’s too on edge.

“Good morning,” they’re greeted with a warm smile, and he’s so _handsome_ and Chanyeol thinks he’ll never get over him, totally. “Donghae sends his regards, he had to fly to Beijing for an emergency meeting last night. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here today. I’m Kim Minseok, I’ll be handling his Masters classes for the next few weeks. As a favor.”

“How do you know him?” Jongdae asks curiously, and Chanyeol’s mind is reeling and going at the speed of light, because _Kim Minseok Kim Minseok **Kim Minseok.**_ “Are you two friends?”

“That’s a weird way to put it,” he mulls it over, and Chanyeol has so many fucking questions, “he’s my senior, but we’re friendly. I’m not a Doctor yet, still trying to get my dissertation out of the way, so just call me Minseok. I’m not much older than most of you, anyway.”

Everyone else nods, and the topic to be discussed is underway, and Chanyeol cannot, _cannot,_ focus on the class, what they’re talking about, whatever it is they’re doing, because he can’t stop staring at Xiumin, at Minseok, _whoever the hell._ He’s confused and maybe a little hurt that a part of the truth had obviously been hidden from him, but he hates that there is a spark of hope reignited in his chest.

He waits for everyone to leave and then it’s just him and Xiumin in the room, and Xiumin doesn’t look surprised in the least, standing patiently as he waits for Chanyeol to gather his nerves.

“You must have many questions,” he says after a while, when it persists to be silent between them.

Chanyeol nods, then says, “So when were you going to tell me that your real name happens to be the one branded on my hip?”

“In the car, literally right before you kissed me and left without leaving me any way to contact you,” he says, and Chanyeol blinks, and he deflates, remembering.

“Right, yeah. That, that makes sense,” he murmurs to himself, and Xiumin, _Minseok,_ gives him a small smile, endeared. “Where’d ‘Xiumin’ come from?”

“An acquaintance I used to have came up with it, called me that,” he answers, and Chanyeol snorts to himself.

 _“‘Acquaintance,’”_ he repeats, and Minseok smiles.

“No need to be competitive,” he says, “Luhan was entirely lovely, but I didn’t like him enough to offer to eat him out the first night we met.”

Chanyeol blushes, sputtering. “You can’t _say that_ here, this is a place of scholarly study.”

He smiles, wide and gummy, and he is so beautiful, so furiously endearing and lovely and no one can even hope to come close.

“I had, kind of a whole breakdown at home,” he waves his hand, feeling a little embarrassed, but he might as well say it. “About, about thinking it was me on your shoulder. _Wanting_ it to be me on your shoulder. And how sad I felt that it wasn’t you on my hip. About wanting it to be you and feeling bad for myself, for whoever it was on my skin, because I so badly wanted it to be you instead.”

Minseok watches him, gaze softening, and Chanyeol feels so attached already, and he wasn’t invested before, but _now._

“I know, I _know,_ that that’s me,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of Minseok’s shoulder, gesturing to his name branded on his skin. He swallows, and he lifts the hem of his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal his soulmate mark, a neat _Minseok_ dark against his skin, even among the many bruises. “I hope this is you. Is it you?”

Minseok tilts his head a little, staring at his mark. Then, he reaches for one of the papers left on the table, a pen, and he writes on it, quick, a little nonchalantly, and he slides the paper towards Chanyeol. On it, he’d written his name, the strokes so beautifully similar to the ones on Chanyeol’s hip, each character almost an exact replica of the mark on his skin. Chanyeol’s heart _soars._

“It’s me,” he confirms, smiling, and Chanyeol wants to tackle him to the floor, kiss the life out of him.

He pauses before he does that, and he asks, “Will the administration mind, if I make out with you? Is there a rule with graduate students kissing professors?”

“I’m not even a real professor here,” Minseok laughs, and Chanyeol grins, before he comes forward and kisses him, molding their mouths together, feeling bright and happy.

.

“When you said _‘Drinks are on me,’”_ Baekhyun starts out, a bite to his tone as Yixing pats his thigh, trying not to laugh as Minseok and Chanyeol roll around in the seats of the booth, lips attached and bodies tangled, “I didn’t think it would also mean we’d have to tolerate your PDA, too.”

“Payback,” he gasps as Minseok nips at his neck, and they’re still getting to know each other, several months after that first night, and they don’t know how to tell the story of how they’d found each other after his mark appeared to their respective families. They’re still working out the details to add, not knowing if admitting he'd gotten his mark in the middle of sex would go over so well. It’s been a very good several months, though, and he smiles, laughing as Minseok tickles his ribs.

“Let them have their fun, Baek,” Junmyeon says, running his hand over Sehun’s thighs, his soulmate’s legs swung over his own, and Sehun nuzzles him, cuddling. “You were worse with Yixing when you two were still fresh.”

“We were a _blessing_ to all of you,” he huffs, and Yixing kisses his cheek, murmuring for him to behave.

“Ah, my set will start in a few,” Minseok says, reluctantly pulling away from Chanyeol, lifting him off of his lap. Chanyeol pouts immediately, trying to cling.

“Don’t spoil my fun,” he says, and Minseok snorts.

“The only thing I spoil is _you,”_ he says, standing up and brushing himself off. He leans down to lift Chanyeol’s chin up, pressing a short kiss on his mouth with finality. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Do the dance with the hips,” he says, eyes glinting up at Minseok, who chuckles. “They’ll _die.”_

“That move’s reserved for you.”

“I’m willing to share,” he says, grinning. “Anyway, I’m the one who’ll get what comes _after_ the hips.”

“Idiot,” Minseok hums, smirking, kissing his cheek and taking off to prepare, Xiumin mode on.

“You two are the worst,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol looks at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’d change your sheets once we get home, if I were you,” he says, beaming, watches Baekhyun squawk and yell about the sanctity of his bed and how the only ones allowed to defile it were Yixing and himself.

He laughs, then he’s grinning and blowing kisses from the booth when Minseok makes his way to the stage, his heart pounding in his chest when Minseok winks at him, blowing a kiss back.

**Author's Note:**

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